


Memento Mori

by Epic_Glitter



Category: Life Is Strange (Video Game)
Genre: Character Study, Dreams, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/F, Fluff and Angst, Healing, Hope, LGBTQ Themes, Minor Original Character(s), POV Chloe, Punk, Romance, Symbolism, amberprice
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-11
Updated: 2019-03-11
Packaged: 2019-11-15 11:57:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 8,256
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18072980
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Epic_Glitter/pseuds/Epic_Glitter
Summary: For her favorite blue-haired rebel's eighteenth birthday, Rachel Amber got her the perfect gift!





	1. You Drive Me Wild

**Author's Note:**

> content note: grief, smoking, drinking, drug use, (implied) sex, mention of (past tense) suicidality  
> Memento Mori Spotify playlist: https://spoti.fi/2HryvN5

**Song: The Runaways –[You Drive Me Wild](https://youtu.be/BrwMWHPiiII)**

**Saturday, January 28, 2012**  
**Portland, Oregon**

* * *

Throwing open the metal doors with a jarring _clang!_ , Chloe’s loud, joyous laughter echoed across the packed parking lot as she walked outside and leaned against the brick wall. Behind her, the sound of guitar riffs and an alto voice belting lyrics poured through the still-closing door of The Polaris into the chilly night air.

By the time Rachel caught up, speeding past the door before pausing to search the lot, Chloe had stopped cackling and pulled her Firewalk-branded Zippo out to light her cigarette.

“Looking for someone?” the blue-haired punk called out, casually blowing out smoke.

“That. Was. Fucking. AMAZING!” Rachel replied, pumping her fists as she ran to where Chloe stood, puffs of visible breath trailing behind her.

“ _Yeah_ you are. Also: a pro! Do _not_ tell me that was your first time stage diving?”

“It won’t be the last,” her girlfriend replied with a wink, leaning in for a quick kiss before slipping a hand into the taller girl’s jacket pocket to pull her pack of cigarettes back out. “We are _so_ coming back for the next show!”

“Need a light?” the punk asked with a cocky smile, expertly flipping the lighter’s cap open and sparking its flame in one fluid motion.

“Hella smooth, Chloe Price,” she replied, her hazel eyes reflecting the newly-lit ember from her smoke.

“I try,” she shrugged nonchalantly as they each brushed off and zipped up their jackets.

Chloe lived for nights like this.

 _This_ pulled her through the invasion of Sergeant Step-Ass into her home, her on-and-off relationship with Blackhell suspension, her best friend’s radio silence, and the endless march of odd jobs she spent each weekday hunting for.

Give her a punk show - bright lights, massive crowds, glorious hearing damage – and none of _that_ shit mattered anymore!

Give her a smokin’ hot special someone to share it with, and the memory could keep her going for _weeks_.

Even without a little chemical stress relief, even when it was her turn to drive, _this_ was enough.

Sometimes the baggage fell away, and Chloe could just _be._ In the moment. Sometimes that moment was all booming bass and pounding heart and just gotta let go, just _thras_ _h!_

Sometimes it was soft lips, dancing tongues, the air in their own little world tingling with electric desire.

For her, the worst part about feeling alive was knowing it was _only_ for a moment.

Walking back to the truck, she felt the adrenaline, thrill, and joy beginning to drain from her.

“Hey,” Rachel said, her eyes fixed on the punk’s deflated expression, “what’s on your mind?”

“I just… do we really have to go back?” she replied, breaking contact to lean back against the driver’s side door and light up another smoke. “You know some people in L.A., right?”

“I wish we could make our escape,” Rachel said, running her hand along Chloe’s jacket sleeve and meeting her eyes, “And next year, as soon as I graduate, we will. Waiting sucks, but it’ll be _so_ worth it when we finally-”

“I know,” she replied with a bitter sigh, taking another long drag and slowly blowing the smoke from the corner of her lips as she passed the cigarette, “I just don’t want tonight to end, you know? And next May is… it’s like _forever…_ ”

“Speaking of forever,” said Rachel, a smoldering glow returning to her eyes, “I got you something. A little surprise.”

“Oh…?” Chloe replied, raising an eyebrow suggestively despite her look of resignation as the shorter girl passed the smoke back to her.

“Open your hand.”

“What the actual…? Rachel-”

“Come onnnn!”

“Can you just-”

“Chloe, just… trust me, OK?”

“Rachel, I...” She begrudgingly held out her left hand.

“Thank you,” her girlfriend said, pressing a small, rectangular paper into the punk’s open palm.

Blue eyes peered down skeptically. What the hell…? Rachel got her, what, a check? Some sorta certificate? How was this gonna make going “home” any less agonizing?

Then again… who knows? Maybe liquor stores and head shops offer gift certificates?

Chloe had seen stranger things, for sure.

Bringing it up close enough to see the bold black print against a lavender background, she read:

[Roberta]  
[Black Labrys Tattoos]  
[Portland, OR 97211]  
[11:00 A.M.]  
[Sat. 3/10/12]  
[Value: $850]

“Rachel, what is this…?” She asked, her brow knotted in confusion as she tossed her smoke to the ground and stamped it out, “That’s… that’s right before my birthday…?”

“Exactly,” she replied, beaming, “You keep saying you want that tattoo, and I think your design will look hella hot… so really, kinda selfish of me. Would’ve been _on_ your birthday, if the shop stayed open Sundays.”

“Rach, you… me… tattoo?” She absently reached under her beanie to scratch at her scalp as her gears finally started turning.

“Happy Birthday! My last photo shoot paid pretty well, so I got you… a tattoo appointment!” Rachel said, opening her arms dramatically and bowing at the waist as if on stage, “Ta-da!”

“And a gift certificate? For a tattoo? They do that?”

“I think what you _mean_ to say is-”

“AMAZEBALLS! Oh holy fuck, thank you so much!”

Chloe pulled her close and met her lips, caressing her cheek with one hand and wrapping the other arm around her back. A pleased, longing groan rose from Rachel’s throat as she slipped her tongue between the punk’s parted lips.

“Get a room!” a woman called out from a passing car, as dozens of people began to pour out of the venue’s metal doorway.

Still making out, they each raised one defiant arm to flip her off.

“I _so_ wish we could right now...” Rachel finally said in a low, sensual voice when their lips eventually parted.

“We’ll be back in March,” Chloe replied, catching her breath and waggling her eyebrows suggestively as she reached for her keys, “How else am _I_ gonna get up before noon? _Obviously_ we need a motel, or whatever.”

“ _We_?” her girlfriend said with a smirk, making her way around to the passenger side door.

“Hey, the week after we met, you didn’t just ask me to draw you a dragon,” Chloe replied as both girls climbed in, “You asked for a dragon _tattoo._ You in, or what?”

“Fuck yes!”


	2. Looking

**Song: Star Amerasu + StormMiguel Florez –[Looking](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aUA31mXWyEo)**

* * *

_Chloe raised her hand to shield her eyes from the painfully intense white light shining from somewhere above and ahead of her._

_What the shit!_

_That hurt!!_

_Where was she, and where the hell was Rachel…?_

_Holding her hand in position, her eyes began to adjust, and she could see the large, empty warehouse space several feet below the stage she was standing on. The instruments, sound equipment, band, mic stand – it was all gone._

_She’d never seen The Polaris like_ this _before._

 _It was deathly quiet, and the crowd was_ _nowhere to be seen._

 _With no one here, a stage dive would be a one-way ticket to a cracked skull,_ _she’d bet anything._

_Wonder what the obit would look like?_

_Before Chloe could weigh the likelihood of anyone_ actually _dying this way – she’d have to look that up later – her hand began to slip, and the stage light made her wince._

“ _Sorry about that, sweetheart,” a familiar voice called out as he stepped through the metal door on the far end of the building. The light began to dim as he steadily walked across the room._

“ _Fu- I mean… Dad?”_

_Her shoulders and jaw tightened as she struggled to keep the conflicted surge of relief and apprehension at bay._

_She never knew when some raven jackass might swoop in, or when William(?) might disappear._

“ _That was_ almost _a dollar for the swear jar,” he said with his usual good-natured laugh, “It’s me, Chloe. Do you want a hand getting down?”_

“ _Pretty sure_ _mom_ _gave up on my ‘college fund,’” Chloe muttered, crouching at the edge of the stage before lowering herself_ _to the floor_ _, and getting a small thrill from the drop._

_No injuries, this time._

_Crossing her arms as she raised her voice loud enough to_ _echo in the cavernous space_ _, she continued with a tone of defensive sarcasm,“Been a while. Let me guess: Cross-dimensional business trip? Appointment- no, silly me, why would_ you _need a doctor? ...picking someone up from the grocery store? That’s it, isn’t it?”_

“ _That’s my Chloe,” he said, unshaken, opening his arms wide to offer a hug, “If the wisecracks help keep you afloat, honey, then I’d listen to them all day. I love you.”_

_That… OK, that got her._

_His voice was not distorted this time,_ _and_ _there were no cars in sight._

 _He actually seemed real – like her earliest dreams of him. Either way, she_ needed _to believe he was._

 _Stepping into her dad’s embrace, her body began to shake as she murmured, “I love you, too, but…_ _I_ _don’t understand. It’s been over a year and I thought-”_

“ _Big weekend ahead, dear,” he replied, breaking contact to begin walking back towards the door_ _, and gesturing for Chloe to_ _join him_ _._

_Walking alongside her father, she looked over to him, quietly studying his profile._

_His face, his eyes, his complete aversion to buttoning-up those goofy-ass plaid shirts he always wore– he hadn’t changed a bit._

_But she had._ _And not just by finally growing as tall as him, either._

“ _Well, yeah. Now when I fu- if I screw up, I’_ _ll_ _get tried as an adult,” she said with an empty laugh,_ _hanging her head_ _as she added, “I’m still stuck in Arcadia Bay, Dad. Suspended from Blackhell, again. Rachel saved me from total oblivion, but… Hate to tell you,_ _your kid’s a screw-up. If you could see me now, you-”_

“ _I_ do _see you, Chloe. It’s me. And I’m proud of you. Nope- don’t try to talk me out of it!”_

“ _What’s there t-”_

“ _We don’t have much time,” he sai_ _d_ _,_ _stopping near the door to face her as he continued,_ _“_ _Chloe,_ _I want you to know I love you. And I know it’s hard for you and your mother._ _I_ _know you’re_ _still_ _hurting. But_ _I’m glad you and Rachel are there for each other, and_ _you_ _r spirit is_ _so strong…”_

 _Gesturing broadly to the stage and the expansive room, he continued, “You live boldly, you love ‘_ hella’ _deeply, and I couldn’t be more proud to be your dad.”_

“ _I also know,” he added, “_ _why you’re getting that tattoo_ _.”_

“ _So you want me to cancel…?”_

 _Shaking his head,_ _her dad_ _replied, “I’m honored, Chloe. Maybe it’s… not my style,” he said with a chuckle, “but it’s yours. I want you to be yourself. I want you to do whatever helps you heal. Just… be careful, and make sure your mother’s sitting down when she finds out.”_

 _Both Prices laughed as William pushed open the door, revealing not a parking lot, but an endless expanse of stars in the space beyond_ _its frame_ _._

“ _Will I see you again?” Chloe asked, her eyes wide_ _with_ _awe._

“ _Not like this, sweetie,” he said, wrapping his arms gently around her as they both_ _tried, ineffectually, to fight back_ _tears, “But I’ll wait for you at journey’s end.”_

“ _Dad, you’re such a dork,” she replied with a sniffle, “… I’ll miss you.”_

“ _I'll miss you_ _, too.”_


	3. The Shape I Found You In

**Song: Girlyman –[The Shape I Found You In](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xNW1Yb4ER6Q)**

**Saturday, March 10, 2012**  
**Portland, Oregon**

* * *

“Dad…? Please, don’t go,” Chloe mumbled, her dampened eyes still closed as a mournful whimper escaped her lips. Her hand reached forward from under the covers, grasping at his memory before falling back against the sheets.

“Just me, love,” Rachel said, her voice smooth and reassuring. Lying behind her on the bed, she gently wrapped her arms around the bluenette and kissed her shoulder.

“Mmm… what…?” she responded, her eyelids slowly lifting as she adjusted to the hazy morning glow drifting in between the motel room’s closed curtains.

Feeling her lover’s soft skin against her back, and her lithe arms holding her close, sent a shiver through Chloe’s whole body as she wiped her eyes with the back of her hand.

For a fleeting moment, she was eased back into the waking world with only comfort, warmth, and love. She felt so _connected_ , so _trusting._ It was such a rare respite, and part of her just wanted to hold on.

Yet when that first moment passed, every muscle in her body suddenly tensed.

Something inside her urgently warned her to run out of the room. _Now._

Nudity laws be damned, this was an emergency!

Chloe knew that getting close to anyone, even this far into their second year together, was a mistake. If she let anyone in, let them see the dead dad dreams and the wrist scars and the fucking vulnerability, it would come back to bite her in the ass.

Count on it.

Everybody lies, no exceptions.

And, as the universe kept telling her, sooner or later everybody _leaves_.

“You awake?” the same disarmingly alluring voice whispered into her ear, as Rachel removed one arm and backed away a little, lightly rubbing Chloe’s shoulders and upper back with her free hand. “Wanna talk it out?”

Patient words and a gentle touch pulled her back from the edge, and she relaxed.

Well, mostly. Lying naked in her gorgeous girlfriend’s arms did not exactly equal “relaxed.”

Especially after last night, in this bed…

Shit, right! Rachel asked her a question!

“Uh, um, yeah,” Chloe stammered, carefully flipping around to face her and slowly tracing the curve of her shoulder with her finger.

Oh, damn, her eyes were so mesmerizing…

She needed to think strai- er, yeah, no. Clearly. She needed to think clearly.

“I’m good. I’m awake.” - she’s so fucking hot how can Chloe even…? - “Thanks for, you know, the touchy feely wakey stuff. That, uh, helped.”

_Nailed it!_

Seeing Rachel’s kind yet concerned expression, she slowed her breathing and listened to the low hum of the heating system. Little tricks she’d picked up to pay attention when either her mind or her libido wanted to be an asshole, and her heart was all *disapproving scowl*.

She didn’t _want_ to be an inveterate hornball.

Not when her riot grrl co-conspirator, her punk rock angel, had something important to say.

“Chloe, if you don’t want to talk about it, I won’t push,” Rachel said, a soothing and encouraging intonation woven through her words, “But you were crying, _hard_ , and calling for-”

She nodded, and Rachel continued.

“You were calling for your dad. It’s like someone turned the clock back to when we first met- that morning in my room? Asleep and inconsolable? It was like _that_.”

“Yeah, the last time was sophomore year. Uh, well, my first go at sophomore year,” she replied with a quiet, self-deprecating laugh, “But I saw him… at The Polaris, actually,” with a whisper, she added, “and he saw me.”

“So your old man’s a thrasher now? Must run in the family,” her girlfriend said, raising one eyebrow for effect and drawing a sad smile from the melancholy punk. Slipping her free hand into Chloe’s and intertwining their fingers, she continued, “Did he say anything?”

A crease formed across Chloe’s forehead as she tried to remember, but her memory was clouded and most details of the dream seemed to be lost in the thick veil of mental fog.

“I can’t remember,” she replied, “but if it comes to me… can we talk then?”

“Definitely,” Rachel said, “For real. Let me know.”

“I will.”

They stayed in bed quietly cuddling for about half an hour. A few times, Rachel gazed thoughtfully into her eyes, as if she had another question.

Chloe was grateful she didn’t ask.

Not counting a certain soft-spoken pirate who sailed out of her life over three years ago, who else could she just _be_ with, even or _especially_ when she was a little messed up inside?

Being silent together was worlds away from crowdsurfing and surviving the mosh pit, but it was exactly what Chloe needed right then. The corners of her lips turned up in a loving smile as she brushed a loose strand of blonde hair out of Rachel’s face and breathed a sigh of relief.

_**BEEP!-BEEP!-BEEP!-BEEP! BEEP!-BEEP!-BEEP!-BEEP!** _

Both girls jumped as Rachel’s alarm went off. She quickly crossed the room to mash the [OFF] button while Chloe slowly dragged herself up from the bed.

The sleepy punk moved _much_ faster when her girlfriend suggested taking a shower together, but it turned out pretty damn awkward. Reality came crashing in, like it always did, this time via loud shaky-ass sliding-glass doors and the tiniest shower/bath stall ever. Trying to playfully lather up or rinse each other off in the cramped space just got tedious, and fooling around was a no-go.

Rachel laughed it off as she got dressed, while Chloe grumbled as she pulled on her spiked bracelet, bullet necklace, blue beanie, and other daily armor. By the time they packed up and checked out, however, her mood began to lift again.

Climbing back into the truck, they stopped in a local donut shop for breakfast. Through a highly effective combo of teasing and flirtation, Rachel nudged her to drink lots of water, and congratulated her for carefully following the tattoo artist’s other recommendations. Among them, staying sober overnight and into the morning was the biggest buzzkill.

Her girlfriend very convincingly assured her that it’d be worth it, to keep the tattoo looking good.

Well-hydrated and sated with the best donuts she’d had in a long time, Chloe felt excitement beginning to stir inside her.

The morning’s sobfest, that brief re-emergence of abandonment fears, and the shower fiasco were all behind her now.

What lay ahead, was Session 1 for her full-sleeve tatt- a gift from her amazing girlfriend.

Fuck yes!

The day she’d been looking forward to, preparing for, and daydreaming about for over a month was finally here!

Once a week, she’d sacrificed her wake-’n’-bake hour, using the time to research what to expect and how to prepare. She even bought the lotion her artist recommended three whole days before the appointment! Weeks of pretending not to hate step-fucker as much, covering up various illicit odors, not getting arrested or cited even _once_ , and returning to her room by curfew had cleared the way for a birthday trip to Portland.

The time had come!

They’d made it!!

Standing outside Black Labrys Tattoos with one arm over Rachel’s shoulder, the gift certificate clutched triumphantly in her other hand, Chloe jumped on her heels and grinned from ear to ear.

“You’re like an excited puppy… it’s so damn cute!” Rachel teased.

“I can’t believe we’re finally doing this!”

“You ready?”

“Pfft, I was _born_ ready!”


	4. Falling Is Like This

**Song1 (start of chapter): The Butchies –[She’s So Lovely](https://youtu.be/cZACdNz46qY)**

**Song2 (near-end of chapter): Ani DiFranco -[Falling Is Like This](https://youtu.be/g1H9TWl5-yg)**

* * *

Stepping into the Black Labrys, Chloe felt at home for the first time she could remember.

Over the stereo system, punk rock frontwomen sang, shouted, and screamed loudly enough for her to rock out, but not to drown out conversation.

The music made her heart leap as she gazed in wonder at her surroundings.

The large room was painted black, with framed prints of the artists’ work lining the side walls from the front counter on back. Just as she started to daydream about her own drawings hanging there someday, Chloe noticed the three large flags covering most of the back wall. Nodding to herself, she instantly recognized them as the lesbian, bisexual, and transgender Pride flags.

Plastered haphazardly throughout the front “waiting area” above the couches, there were flyers for an anarchist book fair, a queer and trans self-defense class, and a feminist bike repair collective. Stacks of similar stickers, zines, and brochures sat on the front counter.

Really fucking impressive!

No idea how Rachel found this place, but so far… it was _perfect!_

Chloe’s eyes rested on a [small poster](https://justseeds.org/product/keep-loving-keep-fighting-2/) immediately to her right as she stepped in. Featuring a comic-style drawing of an anatomical heart and a closed hand, its all-red text read:

[YOUR HEART IS A MUSCLE]  
[THE SIZE OF YOUR FIST]  
[KEEP LOVING]  
[KEEP FIGHTING]

What would it take for them to let her take this one home when she left?

“Let’s go, Price – it’s not polite to stare!” Rachel said with a laugh, elbowing the wide-eyed punk in the ribs as they approached the front counter.

“First time?” the person behind the counter asked with a knowing smile. “Name’s Lex, they/them pronouns. Welcome to the Black Labrys! How can I help you?”

The person’s short, gelled, spiky green hair brightly contrasted their black leather jacket and smooth brown skin- they couldn’t be more than a couple years older than Chloe. Their warm, welcoming voice didn’t quite match the deep circles under their eyes and slightly weary expression, but she wasn’t about to ask.

“We have an appointment!” Chloe replied, smacking the certificate onto the counter cheerfully.

“Both of us, for eleven,” Rachel added, bumping the taller girl’s hip with her own as she slid an appointment card across the counter.

“Great! Chloe, you’re with Roberta. And Rachel, we have you booked with…Natali! They’re both in, so hang out up front for a sec and I’ll call you to the back, OK?”

“Sounds good!” Chloe all but shouted before taking a seat on the couch, Rachel immediately jumping into her lap.

Still grinning through their first few kisses, they nearly got carried away by their sliding tongues, panting breaths, and grasping hands. Lex called out three, maybe four times before they finally heard and followed the bemused green-haired punk to the area behind the counter.

Blushing, Rachel walked into her booth first and greeted Natali with a hug, though they’d never met. The petite, heavily tattooed white woman introduced herself and pulled out her iteration of the dragon design as Rachel sat down.

Chloe entered the next booth over, which was separated by a waist-high barrier. Striding into her booth with maximum swagger, she offered Roberta a firm handshake and pulled her in for an entirely bro-tesque pat on the back. The stocky, broad-shouldered, also heavily tattooed white woman returned the gesture in kind, flashing a jovial smile and introducing herself.

They’d never met, outside of emails, but Chloe felt an immediate sense of… kinship?

Or something like that. Everything about the artist screamed _badass_.

Like, Chloe immediately wanted to get a beer with her and talk shit.

Why couldn’t there be a few Robertas in Arcadia Bay?

Questions went quickly, since they’d covered a lot of ground over email. The age issue was a bit of a snag- while Rachel’s forged signature on the parental permission form was accepted without comment, Chloe had completely forgotten hers. It took a _lot_ of convincing to get Roberta to go ahead without it on the day _before_ her eighteenth birthday. But when her girlfriend poured on the charisma, and Chloe showed off all she’d learned about tattoo healing, the artist relented.

Within half an hour, they were set to get started. The artists’ black nitrile gloves were on, the ink was laid out, and the tattoo guns were at the ready.

Only _now_ , did the concept of pain occur to Chloe.

She wasn’t afraid, and that was the problem. She was just worried she’d have a… weird reaction. Might freak out the artist, or worse, Rachel.

Of course, she did her best not to let any concerns show. She genuinely felt confident, overjoyed, and excited, too, so she focused on those feelings to push the doubt away.

The tattoo gun buzzed, and Roberta began to position Chloe’s hand and wrist just right, when the artist paused.

Speaking quietly enough not to be heard in the next booth, she said, “It’s not my job to pry here, but, you OK kid?”

Having removed all her bracelets during their earlier chat, including her favorite spiked bracelet, Chloe internally winced at the question. She’d prepared for so many possibilities, but not for someone to ask about those faded scars.

“Yeah. I mean, the first one’s just from skateboarding. The second one… Well, it is what it is,” she replied, shifting in her seat and lifting her chin towards Rachel’s booth, “She’s helped a lot. I haven’t… you know… since I met her.”

Her body shuddered at the memory of those unbearably rough months before Rachel came into her life, but Roberta’s kind words reeled her back into the present moment.

“Glad to hear that,” the artist replied, her voice warm and encouraging, “If you ever need some help, you reach out to us OK? Reach out to _someone_. This is a community shop. We see queer youth struggling, we don’t look the other way. Do whatever we can.”

Chloe nodded, moved by her offer. “Uh, thanks. That’s… uh. I can see why Rachel chose this place.”

That whole thing was… weird… but oddly reassuring?

She wasn’t sure what to think, really. She wasn’t used to anyone other than Rachel or Joyce giving a damn about her, and for once it didn’t feel like complete bullshit.

But she was already full-up on feels today. And she _really_ wanted to get on with the tattoo!

“You ready?,” Roberta asked. “No shame if you need a sec.”

“No, I’m good. Let’s do this!”

Once again, the tattoo gun buzzed, and-

Well _that_ hurt like hell!

The sharp sting jolted her senses, and kept going.

She was alive, sure as shit – you’ve got to be alive to feel anything so intensely, right?

The sensation felt almost like… not pleasure, exactly. It hurt, a _lot_ , but something else was going on inside her too, slowly chipping away at the walls she’d built up to keep the grief at arms’ length. She didn’t know how to describe that other feeling, not yet, or whether it should worry her.

As the design spread up her forearm, vines and roots and ribbon taking shape in black ink, the pain didn’t go away. But she _almost_ got used to it. Getting lost in the music seemed to help. A lot of good fucking bands, some she’d never heard of.

Yeah, she’d have to ask about their playlist sometime.

She responded with a “yes” every time Roberta asked if she was OK and if she wanted to keep going.

Her answers were mostly true, too.

Five hours and two smoke breaks later, Rachel’s dragon tattoo was finished, while the permanent, black outline of Chloe’s more elaborate design was complete up to her elbow. The last half hour had taught her that some areas hurt _way_ more than others, but she was still in high spirits.

“That looks _sick_ ,” Chloe said approvingly as the shorter girl proudly showed off her ink just before the artist wrapped plastic over it, securing it to her leg with medical tape.

“Not looking so bad yourself,” she replied with a wink, admiring her forearm, “Could you hear us over there?”

“Not over the music,” the punk replied, suddenly realizing she hadn’t thought much about her girlfriend’s experience here. “Why, you OK?”

“Never better!” Rachel said, laughing as they both left the booths and walked outside for another break. “Good music, eye candy in the next booth over,” with a sly wink, she continued, “And no one’s giving us shit for being together. A girl could get used to this! How about you?”

“Rach, this is place is fucking amazeballs!” She said excitedly, “I love everything about it! I wish we never had to leave!”

She was still _mostly_ telling the truth. The Black Labrys was, in fact, fucking amazeballs. Chloe felt more and more comfortable as the hours passed, and she was blown away by the fact this was all a _gift._ Rachel _planned_ all this. For her.

No way did she deserve it. But she mentally chased away that unworthy feeling _fast_ , focusing on the slight breeze against her bare arms and completing her one-hand, no-look Zippo trick as she first lit her girlfriend’s cigarette, then her own.

“Hey, for the next few hours, we don’t,” Rachel said, kissing her on the cheek before taking another drag, “I just knew you’d be right at home here!”

After their break, they returned to the booth, where Roberta had set up a “girlfriend chair.” As the tattoo gun buzzed along, Chloe and Rachel dropped into their own witty, slightly twisted banter about the next Firewalk show, Tempest memories, and plans for the rest of her birthday weekend. While Roberta and Lex chimed in from time to time, it was mostly just the two of them.

Despite the ongoing prick of the needle methodically pushing ink into Chloe’s arm, or perhaps because of it, both girls were in their element. The new tattoos, the music, the artists, the shop’s glorious vibe of queer rebellion- it filled them both with a wild exuberance even more electrifying than Rachel’s first time stage diving!

Getting this tattoo, in this shop, with Rachel by her side, Chloe felt _alive._  And almost free.

It was an _incredible_ feeling!

Hell, maybe it actually was worth it to make it through all the bullshit life kept throwing at her.

She was worth it. _This_ was worth it.

The realization made her open up a bit more, too.

As Roberta began work on the upper arm skull, they hit a lull in their banter, and Rachel’s curious hazel eyes met Chloe’s remarkably joyful blue.

“So… what’s it mean?”

“What’s what mean?”

“The tattoo! You started drawing it before I even knew you, showed it to me a bajillion times… but we never really talked about what it means.”

“Hmm...” Chloe hummed, stalling.

She hadn’t planned on telling anyone, really. She’d even spun a number of passable responses for any nosy-ass lookyloos who wanted to know:

Just looks badass.

Just like the colors.

Just put her pen to paper one day, and that’s what came out.

Just like it ‘cause it’s hers, she created it, no one else will have the same tattoo.

But Chloe couldn’t bullshit Rachel, not about things that, like, _really_ mattered. They trusted each other deeply, so big lies were out of the question.

“Well, drawing the thorns to look like barbed wire is obvious – _don’t fuck with me_!”

Everyone in the shop chuckled, a mischievous glint flashing briefly in Chloe’s eyes as she continued.

“The butterflies – well, they’ll be blue when it’s done, and, _obviously,_ " she added, running her free hand through her hair. "These fuckers are also _hella_ hard to catch. There’s a whole ‘chaos theory’ thing, too. But my main idea is, people see a butterfly and think it’s kind of girly, you know?”

Her tone grew more serious as she continued, the words pouring rapidly from her lips with the urgency of a revelation. “But in this species, _Morpho amathonte_ , only the dude-butterflies are bright blue, and… it’s hard to explain. It’s like a balance thing? Like – I’m still me – just there’s part of me that’s kind of, a little, like… ‘fuck gender, dude! I do what I want!’”

No one was chuckling, this time.

An almost reverent silence held for several seconds.

Lex peeked over the waist-high barrier into the booth, having listened in.

“ _Hell_ to the _yeah_! Kickass blue butterflies! Green’s more my deal,” Lex said, tossing their head back and pretending to flip their hair with a grin, “But I like the way you think, Chloe!”

The shop phone rang, sending Lex shuffling back to their front desk duties, as Rachel placed a hand on the punk’s non-tattooed arm.

“You’re a badass, Chloe Price,” she said softly enough for only the two of them to hear, a sincere and affectionate look in her eyes, “And I love you.”

Smiling as she stopped the tattoo gun, Roberta left the booth for another break.

Before the artist had even gone, Rachel pulled Chloe close for a passionate kiss. The punk held on tight, allowing herself to feel every moment of intoxicating desire mixed with deep, loving care.

She’d never mentioned the… the “balance” shit to anyone before. Had been hella worried what her girlfriend might think. As the shorter girl led her outside with a “come hither” gesture, she felt grateful that Rachel accepted this part of her alongside all the others.

By now the air outside was getting crisp, each moment bringing the sky a deeper blue hue as evening twilight slowly approached.

After another perfectly executed Zippo trick, both cigarettes were lit, and Rachel asked Chloe to tell her more about the tattoo if she wanted.

“For the rest of it, there’s this mosaic called ‘The Skull and the Level’ in Pompeii – I saw it on some late-night insomnia special, and I kinda got super into it, you know? Like with my science shit – I just wanted to know _everything_ about that damn mosaic from some ancient building across the ocean. Guess it was on my mind, and…”

As Chloe’s voice trailed off, Rachel placed a hand on her shoulder, taking a final drag before dropping her smoke in the ashtray outside the shop.

“Totally down for an international field trip,” her girlfriend said with a smirk, “And you know I love it when you talk nerdy to me. But what were you about to say…?”

“The skull, well… death, you know? Coming for _all_ of us. Dad’s… Dad’s fuckin’ gone. Forever.”

Before tears could push their way past her weakened defenses, Chloe closed her eyes tight and drew a deep breath, trying not to sound choked up. “It’s not fair. But I’m here, and… and someday I won’t be. I once tried _not_ to be...”

She shook her head, shoving the thought aside as she continued with steely determination in her voice. “So, like, putting a skull on my arm. It’s there to tell me to make the most of whatever time I’ve got left. _Really_ enjoy a wild fucking show, or…” her voice began to tremble as she looked directly into Rachel’s eyes with a sudden tenderness in her tone as she continued, “or lying in your arms… because some day it’s all gone.”

Rachel wrapped Chloe in a warm embrace, holding her close while carefully avoiding the new tattoo.

The blue-haired punk relaxed into her arms, resting her head on her girlfriend’s and soaking in the strength, comfort, and understanding she found there.

“Too dark?” Chloe whispered, trying hard to regain her ironic tone.

“Perfect dark,” she replied in perfect cadence, a spark of admiration in her eyes.

Giving the punk a tight squeeze before breaking contact, she continued, “Thanks for telling me.” Her voice growing purposeful and defiant, she added, “Now that I know – we’ve got hella more living to do, Price!”

After a quick kiss, Chloe tossed what was left of her own cigarette into the ashtray, and returned inside.

As they walked back in, Chloe immediately noticed the music had shifted to [some mellow indie singer-songwriter dealie](https://youtu.be/g1H9TWl5-yg). Fine by her. By now her walls had all but crumbled, and this song fit her current mood better anyway. Unsurprisingly, its earnest, confessional tone reminded her of the freckle-faced girl who'd filled so many mix CDs with this stuff.

Not gonna lie. Those were incredibly special gifts, too.

Chloe had kept every single one.

Back in the booth, the tattoo gun was back to buzzing, as Roberta continued work on the skull. Just before starting, she’d told Chloe there was only about an hour and a half left to complete the outline – she’d have to come back a few weeks later to start with the color.

It felt good, back there, telling Rachel what this was really about.

Right?

OK, no, it had felt like she was about to break down sobbing in front of a damn tattoo studio.

It was a huge deal to confide in the one person she really trusted, but she’d dipped her toe back into the same deep well of grief she’d nearly drowned in many times before.

Suddenly the sting of the needle felt different.

With each sharp little pain, something was opening up in Chloe’s heart. Releasing.

Just gotta let go.

Glancing at her arm and the mostly-completed skull, tears began to flow freely down her cheeks. With a compassionate look in her eye, Rachel handed her a handkerchief as she tried, unsuccessfully, to blink away the impending flood.

“Heya, Chloe?” Roberta said, stopping the gun with a concerned expression, “Is the pain too much? We can take another break, get some numbing cream…”

“Nonono, keep going,” Chloe stammered, blood rushing to her cheeks and tinting them bright red as she kept crying, “It’s… it’s not the pain. It’s, uh, personal. But I want to keep going. Please, we need to keep going.”

“William?” Rachel asked, her tone sympathetic and her voice just loud enough for the bluenette to hear. Chloe nodded weakly as she continued, “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have asked.”

“No, it’s… I remember what he said now.”

“This morning? In your dream?”

“Yeah,” Chloe said, swallowing hard and wiping her eyes with the handkerchief, "He knew the tattoo might help me, like, process. He was so chill about me getting inked,” she said with an ironic laugh as her tears slowed to a trickle, “He told me, ‘You live boldly, you love ‘ _hella_ ’ deeply, and I couldn’t be more proud to be your dad. _’”_

“Chloe, that’s-”

“I know. Right? So, yeah, I’m a mess but it’s, like, a good mess? I don’t think you know how much you’ve given me, and I _don’t_ just mean the gift certificate.”

Roberta stopped the gun just long enough for Rachel to lean in and kiss Chloe, holding her hand as she sat back down.

“You’re welcome! And-” Rachel said, squeezing her hand, “You _hella_ deserve to heal, Chloe. And so much more.”

Throughout the final hour of outlining, Chloe felt like a huge, 18-wheeler-sized weight had been lifted from her shoulders. After they’d scheduled their next appointment – a color session for Chloe, and a small wrist tattoo for Rachel – they exchanged fond goodbyes with Lex, Roberta, and Natali before walking out into the parking lot.

Despite the itchy, irritated ache that was setting in throughout both of their new tattoos, Chloe had an entirely new spring in her step.

The whole pre-birthday surprise queer radical tattoo studio thing was ending, but for once, Chloe did not ache for it to last forever. Something major was shifting inside her, and for the rest of the weekend, she couldn’t shake three recurring thoughts: that she _did_ deserve to heal, she wanted to _keep_ loving deeply, and she wanted to make the most of whatever time she had left.


	5. Keep on Livin'

**1st Song: Le Tigre –[Keep On Livin’](https://youtu.be/Jvq4gOjWHuc)**  
**2nd Song: K’s Choice –[Come Alive](https://youtu.be/m183xWk0sXg)**

 **Saturday, May 25, 2012**  
**Arcadia Bay, Oregon**

* * *

“Bull’s eye!” Rachel shouted, breaking into a victory dance inside the cramped concrete structure as her dart hit dead-center on the board.

“What? Can’t hear you!” Chloe replied, shrugging and cupping a hand over her ear in an exaggerated gesture as the 1337 train loudly chugged along outside.

She'd just lost her third game in a row, but throwing back her second beer softened the blow.

There was at least one place left in Arcadia Bay where Chloe felt at peace.

And for this warm, lazy Saturday afternoon, it was enough to spend time with her gloating, grinning girlfriend here in their junkyard hideout.

“I said,” Rachel played along, “even if you face crushing defeat every time we play darts-”

“Not _every_ t-”

“ _Even so_ ,” she cut in, walking a slow circle around Chloe before stopping in front of her with a suggestive wink and pulling her closer, “It’s OK. You have other ‘talents!’”

“Is that so?” the punk replied, leaning in for the kiss.

Lately they _really_ couldn’t keep their hands off each other.

Did she see anything to complain about, there?

_Fuck no!_

Half an hour later, they’d moved out into the sunlight. Leaning back against the truck with Rachel at her side, Chloe stopped to show off a new variation on her Zippo trick while lighting up another cigarette. Passing the smoke to her girlfriend, she lit up her own and blew a few smoke rings.

“Nice!” Rachel said, joining in.

Her rings looked… well, the girl needed some practice.

Honestly, Chloe was too distracted watching her full, rounded lips to think much about it.

“Hey, congrats on making it through finals,” she said, averting her eyes and bumping the shorter girl’s shoulder with her own.

“Thank the moon and stars!” she replied, twirling away from the truck to face Chloe, “I’m sorry I kinda ghosted towards the end. I was _so_ stressed, I thought my head might-”

“Burst into flames?” she replied, both girls laughing darkly at the memory. “Don’t sweat it. You made it, so, _obviously_ we’ll have to celebrate. And I actually did some, like, _life shit_ while you were trapped in the finals bubble.”

“Yeah? Who are you, and what’d you do with my Chloe? You bring her back _now_!” she said in her best deadpan voice before breaking into a fit of giggles and flashing her a proud, encouraging smile.

“I’ve got one more shot at Blackhell in the Fall. But if I fuck it up- I don’t _want_ to fuck it up, but… I’m 18 now. Looked into some G.E.D. stuff, and...”

She paused. Her girlfriend had long since stopped giggling, placing a hand on the punk’s bare shoulder and rubbing slow circles with her thumb as she quietly waited for her to continue.

With most people, it was much too risky for Chloe to let on that she did shit like this sometimes. And they’d get the wrong idea, no doubt.

It was absofuckinglutely _not_ about becoming some conformist-ass mainstream goodcitizen responsibleadult bullshit, hell to the no!

Mostly, it was about getting the fuck out of the house where her violent, controlling step-shit lived. Ever since his post-tattoo rage-a-thon, even _thinking_ about “home” put her on edge.

On her good days, she focused on L.A. Their dream! Rachel was already getting a few modeling gigs and small-time roles, making connections.

What was Chloe gonna do when they got there?

What if the truck crapped out?

It usually took a good buzz and some hand-rolled, smokeable stress relief before she could even bear to think much about it. Lately, though, she’d started to face the gaping chasm between her current life and their dreams together _even_ when she was stone cold sober.

Taking a long, final drag of her cigarette, Chloe continued, “I looked up some stuff about Bay State. Eligibility, financial aid. But that’s like, wayyyyy down the line – and only if we haven’t blown this fucking town by then.”

When Rachel looked into her eyes, the mix of surprise, pride, love, and deep respect she found there spread a warm tingle through her face and the rest of her body.

She felt _seen._

It was good, but, kinda fucking uncomfortable?

Her mind flashed to their first days together in this place: the risky, quiet confessions and overwhelming emotions.

She held her breath, waiting for Rachel to, like, _say something!_

“Chloe, I tell you all the time you’re a badass. But I mean it – you are the bravest person I know. And I don’t just mean the times you’ve walked right into danger for me, or how _you_ had the guts to stand _here,_ in this junkyard, and tell me how you felt.”

Rachel was standing in front of her now, arms wrapped behind her neck, looking her right in the eye.

“I’ve seen you go through Hell… I know the past just doesn’t stop hurting you. But you don’t quit. You didn’t give up on yourself, or _us_ , or our dream. You come back swinging! And real fucking talk? I love you for it.”

“Rach, I… I love you, too.”

Chloe’s hands and lips trembled at first, the slow, shuddering kiss shattering whatever defenses she still had left.

For a long, sweet, sublime moment, the world dropped away around them. When their lips parted, they held one another closely.

The goddamn waterworks were cranking up again, for both of them, but this time Chloe did not fight it. Bright afternoon sunlight reflected off pools in their eyes, streams down their cheeks.

Being in love, like keeping a white-knuckled grip on her sense of hope, was some complicated shit. Messy, unpredictable, often painful. Too damn honest for her own good.

She knew intimately well, it could all be gone in an instant.

She kept loving anyway, kept fighting anyway.

And today, at least? It was hella worth it!

“Anyone sees us like this, it’ll totally ruin our rep,” Chloe said with a deeply contented smile, pulling away from their embrace and wiping her eyes,

“Can’t have that,” her girlfriend playfully agreed, pulling out two handkerchiefs.

Within an hour, they’d shared a joint and fallen back into lighthearted teasing. Rachel turned on the hand radio she’d brought from their hideout and tuned it to the only local punk station.

Climbing up to the roof of the truck, both of them belted along to Against Me!, jokingly goading each other to sing louder and get more lyrics right.

Chloe always felt a little stronger, a little more _together_ , a little more _Chloe_ , looking down from atop her ancient F-150. Being up there with Rachel was that much more invigorating – especially when she laid her legs across the punk’s lap.

“That dragon looks _awesome_ , Rach!” she said, running her hand along her inked calf, “Even more, now that it’s healed.”

“The color on your sleeve just blows my mind. This is _art_ , Chloe. And those butterflies really bring out your eyes.” she replied, reaching to touch her tattooed arm until the punk pulled it away.

“Hey – tattoo foul! Still ticklish there!” she said.

“What can I say? I aim to misbehave!” her girlfriend replied, with several more teasing attempts to touch the final, most recently colored-in part of the sleeve.

“How about you tell me how your wrist’s doing instead?” she said, gently swatting away Rachel’s hand.

“Oh, this?” she replied, flipping the inside of her left wrist up to show off the small blue-and-black five-pointed star.

“Wow- that came out great, Rach! You’re a fast healer, too,” Chloe said, admiring her girlfriend’s newest ink. “Nautical star, right? We got interrupted back at the shop – what were you saying it’s about? I mean, I know you like stars anyway, just thought you said-”

“It’s like this,” she replied, clasping Chloe’s hands in her own, “Last year, I felt a _ton_ of pressure to try to ‘tone it down,’ you know? Pretend I’m as straight as everyone says I look?”

She listened quietly, gently squeezing Rachel’s hand as she continued.

Part of her wanted to tell her girlfriend, who cares what anyone thinks?

She wanted to say, point me to ‘em, I’ll get them to shut the fuck up.

But today, she wanted to give her the same space she’d been given, to react _her_ way. And, of course, to talk about what that tattoo meant to her.

“Steph taught me this star is, like, a queer women’s symbol from the fifties. They used it to find each other out in the world, like a secret code. And it reminds me what it felt like in the Black Labrys, and what it feels like here with you. I just… I get to be _me_. No pressure, no bullshit.”

She nodded thoughtfully, planting a kiss on Rachel’s cheek before remarking with an impish grin, “...and it’s blue?”

“Yes, Chloe. ‘And it’s blue,’” she replied, her tone still serious, “And I meant what I said before. I’m _proud_ to be your girlfriend. I don’t want to hide that, ever.”

She sighed happily, saying “Good. Me, neither. I’m… I just. My life is way fucking better with you in it. And it really _is_ a sweet tattoo.”

They passed the rest of the afternoon in the junkyard talking, plotting, laughing, kissing, drinking, smoking, and messing around. They were fucking hyped to see Firewalk at The Polaris next weekend, but other than that, it was a typical Saturday. Eventually they moved from the roof to the blanket-covered bed of the truck, then back into the shack. Sometime after sunset, they shared dinner at Two Whales before she dropped Rachel off.

For the first time she could remember, Chloe did not feel a crushing ache in the center of her chest as Rachel kissed her goodbye and disappeared through her parents’ front door.

 _Of course_ she didn’t want the day to end.

 _Of course_ she wanted to stay close to Rachel.

And, sure as shit, she could never know what fresh Hell tomorrow might bring.

But now, pushing back against all her fear, doubt, and constant anticipation of loss – now she heard two voices and saw one skull tattoo.

Rachel’s voice, which told her she’s brave, and loved, and never gives up.

Dad’s voice, which told her she could love deeply, and that he was hella proud of her.

And the full-color, completely healed skull tattooed on her arm – which had helped her enjoy the afternoon while it lasted, and told her there was still time left to feel, to hurt, to thrash, to love.

To _live_.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! And double thank you to beta reader, escherlat :)
> 
> This is my first Chloe POV fic, as well as my first time writing Amberprice. Poured quite a bit of personal experience/perspective into this one, plus a long history of overanalyzing LiS symbolism & Chloe's character. Credit for connecting Chloe's tattoo to the mosaic, and for naming the species of butterfly, goes to Geek Remix on YouTube. Credit for the "Keep Loving, Keep Fighting" poster goes to artist Dalia Shevin.
> 
> I welcome any encouraging feedback, constrictive criticism, or respectful comments & questions.
> 
> To Chloe: Happy 25th bday :)  
> To everyone else: "Keep on livin'!"
> 
> NOTE: I am currently writing a novel-length follow-up to Memento Mori, entitled Borrowed Time, which alternates POV between Chloe and Rachel. Hope to begin releasing chapters sometime in Winter 2019/2020. Plan to release on a regular schedule (either 1 or 2 chapters per week).
> 
> P.S. In CH5, G.E.D. = General Education Diploma. A state-issued equivalent to a high school diploma, which usually requires passing a test & being 18 (not always).
> 
> P.P.S. Memento Mori is set in the same universe & timeline as Solstice, but over a year earlier.


End file.
